Plunged

He's gifted.  All this time - we knew, but we had no proof, so we ignored it and looked into other things.  And now we do.  Have proof.  And as I've sorted through vast amounts of information the past couple of weeks, I have become confused and trying to sort through what I believe and why.  And as I pondered it tonight, I was inspired to write this poem:



Plunged

Gifted-

Awkward
Crazy
Emotional
Pulled this way and that

What do I believe about education?
What things will stay the same?
And what things will need to change?

How can I better help him learn
Grow
Explore the world
Reach for the stars
Give him what he needs-
So that he can reach his full potential?

What can I do to be a better mom?
How can I help him
Find himself
Learn about why he is the way he is
Encourage him
Have his back?

Lord, help us help him.
Give us patience
Love
Kindness
Understanding
Respect.
Help us to grow
Help us to learn
Help us to want what's best for him-
Even if it's different than what we expected.

Help us come to an understanding
A truce
A compromise
For how to best teach and train him
To become what You want him to be
To grow into the person You created him to be
To love life and all it has to offer.
Help us to tread carefully
When it comes to his faith.
Help us to nurture it
Encourage it
Help it to bear fruit-
And not mangle it with his
Overpassion and overlogic.

Help us
Sort through the vast amounts of information
Discover what is truly important
To him
To us
To our family
To our life
To his life.

Ah, giftedness.
A blessing, truly-
And difficult
Abnormal
And yet perfect
Just the way God made him.

Let us ever be grateful for this life you've given us.